Arthur's Obliviousness
by Charles-burg
Summary: Arthur visits Cornwall but an innocent holiday turns out to be the reminisce of long forgotten destiny. Some Merthur! Modern day reincarnation fic!
1. Prologue

A/n. A stressful time calls for a new story, hope you enjoy! :P

Prologue

_When we are judging everything, we are learning nothing. ~ Steve Maraboli_

They all judge. They all judge, but nobody sees. Nobody sees the pain, the suffering, the sorrow. Even after thousands and thousands of years, still, he mourns the loss of his king.

He saw battles and wars, experienced love, and loss. He watched the rise and fall of kingdoms. He witnessed life and death, but none was so apparent than the loss of his king.

Lands changed. The world moved and warped by volcanoes and earthquakes. The world shaped and formed by glaciers and oceans. But one thing did not. He never aged, he never changed, and he never forgot the loss of his king.

But from all this pain and sorrow, from all the change he saw in the world, one good came of this. This man, who saw and lost so much, did one thing in his long, inescapable life; he learnt.

He learnt languages, cultures and science, but the knowledge he expanded the most was that of his magic. He travelled and explored, searching for new and exciting forms of magic, waiting and expecting the return of his king.


	2. Do I Know You?

A/n. A few of you were asking for Chapter 1. I would have uploaded it with the prologue but it was saved on my laptop and not on my school docs cause I uploaded the prologue from school :S

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Do I Know You?

_Don't judge someone's choices without first knowing their reason. ~ Robert Tew_

_They all judged. They all judged him, but nobody saw. _

Rain. It was always raining here, it never seemed to stop. Wasn't it Shakespeare who wrote, 'The Rain it Raineth Every Day'? Well he was right, in never seemed to stop. I stared out of the holiday cottage window through the deluge of rain. I couldn't help but think about what had brought me here, that feeling, so strong, almost like a tugging sensation in my gut. You ever had an itch that you mustn't scratch, but the temptations are so strong your arm moves of its own accord? Well that's what it felt like, as if my body was moving of its own accord when I booked this cottage and drove all the way from Snowdonia in Wales to Prussia Cove in Cornwall. The thing is, now what? Why was I here? I very much doubt it was a subconscious need for a holiday, I didn't work that hard.

The sea was rough today, pounding against the cliffs, as if the mighty god Thor was throwing his hammer into the Earth in anger. I could hear it from where I stood, the thunderous rumbling, muffled by the window in front of me. So caught up in my thoughts and confusion, I nearly missed the knock at the door. Tearing my eyes from the sea I walked across the hall and opened the door to find a youngish man standing before me wearing a t-shirt and jeans, despite the rain.

"Hello", he said cheerily, "I'm the owner, well part owner, of this cottage, I was just wondering how you were settling in?" His voice had a slight Cornish accent, however, it seemed to be mixed with another that I didn't recognise, yet sounded so familiar that I got the faint feeling of homesickness, but not for my house in Wales.

"Err, hi." I reached out and shook his hand, "Yeah, I'm settling in fine, thanks…" I trailed off, unsure what to say.

He seemed disappointed I had nothing more to say, "Well, let me know if you need anything." He turned to leave, but I called him back, something was bugging me.

"Hey," He turned expectantly, "What's your name?"

"Merlin," The man replied.

"Do I know you Merlin? You seem familiar…"

At this he grinned, "We'll have to see…" He replied mischievously before turning and heading towards the house in which he had come from. What the hell was all that about? I wondered as I turned back to the cottage to make myself some nice refreshing coffee.

The next few days I couldn't help but notice the young man running about doing odd jobs here and there; I didn't think he had a proper job, just went about cleaning the three cottages he owned and making sure the people on holiday were alright. Apart from talking to the holiday makers, Merlin kept to himself and I didn't speak to him much.

I spent a long while each day walking along the coastal paths and across the moors on the North coast; the Cornish countryside was so beautiful and I wondered why I had never visited before. I also wondered why I felt so at home, as if I'd lived here all my life; maybe it was because I was reminded of my home in Wales, but I had a sneaking suspicion that wasn't the case.

In the days that I stayed inside because of the rain, I lit the fire and watched a few cheesy movies; however, there was one thing that intrigued me about the cottage though. Positioned above the fire place was a sword, it was beautiful as the hilt glimmered in the fire light. On my second day staying inside, curiosity over took me and I lifted the sword from its stand and stood there holding it. The hilt fit perfectly in my hand as if it had been made for me and it was although it weighed nothing, even though it was a properly heavy broadsword.

I wanted to talk to Merlin about it, but he always seemed to be busy, running all over the place. Eventually, I got my chance, but not in the way I expected.

Five days after my arrival, I was down in the small cove, looking out over the waves trying to spot some seals, when something unexpected happened, I was attacked. However, I wasn't attacked by something that you'd call natural. The thing was huge, like one of those ogres you see on TV, except this one, was wielding a sword.

Panicked, I scramble backwards over the rock I was perched on and was narrowly missed by the ogre's sword. Jumping to my feet I ran across the beach towards the slope that lead up the cliff, but it was blocked by another of the ogres that seemed to have pealed itself out of the muddy cliff wall. I dashed back across the beach, dogging another swing from the first ogre's sword, and scaled the massive boulder in the centre of the beach. I was out of reach of the ogres, but I was also trapped upon a rock with no way of escape.

I stood on the rock, wondering what to do, and then I noticed something, the hilt of a sword, glimmering in the stone. Frantically I moved towards it, and slumped with dismay; it was wedged it the rock, completely and utterly stuck. Ironically, I was reminded of the story of King Arthur and the Sword in the Stone. It was funny that my name was Arthur and the man who owned my cottage was called Merlin, oh the irony.

Still amused, I though it couldn't hurt to try, so with a nervous laugh I grabbed the hilt of the sword and pulled it from the stone. Surprise was hardly enough to describe how I was feeling, but I didn't have much time to dwell on it, the ogres had found a way on to the rock.

I gripped the sword in anticipation, barely noticing that it was the same one from the cottage. As soon as the first ogre was on the rock he lunged at me and I blocked the attack. I have no idea how, but it seemed to come naturally and I wasn't complaining. Soon enough I had dispatched the foul beast and got ready for the second ogre, but he went down even easier than the first.

I wasn't tired like I expected, actually I felt as if I could run a marathon, but wasn't sure if that was the adrenaline talking. Despite feeling exhilarated I also felt pissed, what did those ogres or whatever they were think they were doing ruining my lovely stay in Cornwall? There was only one thing I could think to do, I had to speak to Merlin.


End file.
